


my tiny heartbeat in his ear

by riyku



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Neighbors, Pining, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! today marks the one-year anniversary of the first skam fic i ever posted, so i'm indulging myself with this thing.
> 
> each chapter is gonna be short, with a new one coming down the pike at some point everyday. thank you so much for putting up with me for the last year, and i hope you like this.
> 
> title snagged from Neko Case.
> 
> p.s. tebtosca remains the best fairy godmother a girl could ask for.

The house has been empty for a handful of months, a for sale sign out front and one of those lock boxes hanging from the door knob. Isak once spent a bored hour trying to crack the code on it, not because he wanted to break in, rather just to see if he could. An older woman used to live there, left to go live with her daughter somewhere up north, and took her fuzzy little dog with her. The one that used to sit in the front window and yap every time Isak walked by.

The sign disappeared a while ago, and so did the box on the door, and now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house has stopped being empty.

Isak is sent across the street in the early afternoon, after the moving truck is gone, a barely fifteen year old ambassador. He didn't want to go, bitched, stomped around and made a big deal out of putting on his shoes and finding his snapback and finally giving in. Anyway, it's not like his mother can go, good day or not. 

He crosses the street and stops when he gets there, standing on a sidewalk lined on both sides with boxes labeled kitchen and bathroom and E-bedroom, a tray of his mother's fresh baked cookies held balanced in front of him like an offering. The door to the house is open and there's no place to knock and this whole thing is starting out awkward and it's only gonna get worse, since socializing isn't Isak's strong suit and socializing with adults who aren't related to him usually comes with a blast radius. 

"Hello."

Isak hears him before he sees him, feels him too, a hand on his shoulder and a quick squeeze. A touch that doesn't go away, just rotates as he circles around Isak and stands in front of him, closer than strictly necessary. Close enough that Isak needs to tip his head up to look at him. Bright, splash-blue eyes and a smile that makes Isak smile back, makes his heart do a foreign thing in his chest. 

"You're new," the guy goes on, still smiling. "Even." 

"Isak," he says, a little confused since there's nothing new about him, Even is the thing that is new here, and then Even hugs him when a handshake would do just fine, and the cookies nearly take a header before Even swoops in with a last minute save, grabbing the cookies, one of the boxes marked bedroom and every last shred of Isak's curiosity.

"Are you coming?" Even asks, already in the doorway, heading into the shadows, half up the staircase by the time Isak catches up with him. 

Their houses are the same except in mirror image. A series of left turns where Isak is used to making rights. Someone is moving around in the kitchen and there's classical music playing and the house smells like old dust and new cardboard.

"You're in my room, only it's opposite," Isak says, dodging an open box and the parts that will make up Even's bed, looking at the closet and the empty shelves that were apparently standard operating equipment back when they built these houses.

Even seems delighted by this, or it might be his default to show a happy sort of interest when people share things with him, and he rushes over to the window that faces out front, elbows on the windowsill. 

"Show me," he says, and Isak does. He points out his window across the street and slightly diagonal. The blinds on his window are crookedly at half mast, it's dark enough on the inside that they can't see the mess, and they crunch through cookies for a while as Isak introduces him to the neighborhood from their bird's eye vantage point. Boring stuff like the closest tram stop and convenience store, to less boring stuff like the tall apartment building a short walk away that never locks the entrance to its rooftop and the best movie theaters for sneaking in through the back.

"You're into movies?" Even asks, and bumps shoulders with Isak, then knuckles, and Isak's starting to figure out that being around Even is more of a contact sport. 

"Of course," Isak says, "isn't everybody?"

"What are your top three? Don't think too hard, just name them." Even's looking at him like the fate of the world might very well hang in the balance. 

He's been on a kick recently, so he goes with a few he's watched in the last month, the ones that pop into his head without having to work for it. The Shining, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Grudge. "Not the re-makes," Isak clarifies, "the originals."

"You like to be scared," Even points out, and they've been leaning so long on the windowsill that Isak might have permanent ridges on his forearms and his fingers are starting to tingle. 

Isak pushes off, shakes some of the blood back into his hands. "It's more of an endorphin thing, I think. Besides, they're classics."

"So you watch them because Leatherface gives you a runner's high?"

"That's one way of looking at it, yeah. It sure beats actually _running._ " 

"We should watch it sometime," Even says, and it's casual, friendly, a promise that he doesn't want today to be a one-time thing, and there goes Isak's heart again. His tongue too, as he silently nods along, not wanting it to be a one-time thing either.

Isak tests the give of the mattress sagging against the wall, toes at the bedframe, and there's something about the way that Even stares at him that makes Isak not mind it at all. "Do you actually plan on sleeping in this thing tonight?"

And that's how they end up spending the next two hours, inserting tabs into slots and allen wrenching the whole thing together while they demolish the rest of the cookies. At one point Even's mother shows up, seemingly not at all startled to see a strange boy in her son's room, presently helping to hoist the mattress up onto the bunk, and that's when Isak learns the origin story of Even's smile, the slight asymmetry of his jaw.

Deed done, and the bed doesn't collapse under Even's weight when he climbs up to test it, Isak hovering close in case things swing south, and now they have pizza to put on top of all the sugar and Even starts going through boxes, passing things over to Isak to put on shelves. It's kinda personal, Isak thinks, how Even is allowing him to touch all of his stuff, choose where it's gonna go without giving him a lot of direction. He picks which drawer Even will use for t-shirts, helps him hang his jeans on the left and his few dress shirts on the right. Color codes them, and bets that Even will look good in that one dark red zip up hoodie when it gets cold enough for him to wear it.

Two boxes of books and movies, and Even gives him a running commentary, back-jacket descriptions of all of them and it's like he's giving Isak bullet points, an outline of himself, or at least the stuff he's into, which is a pretty good start. There are albums on actual vinyl, which doesn't surprise Isak. Even seems to be the type who would trade convenience for tangibility, the kinda person who would want to hold the music in his hands, touch it before he plays it. 

Even hauls over a big rattling box of busted up parts and starts clunking through them. Cracked lenses, an old Kodachrome, wiring, cogs, reels and AV equipment, a bunch of things Isak doesn't recognize, a lot of it still labeled with handwritten, flea market price tags, and the question about the movies is now making sense.

"You like to fix stuff," Isak says, watching as Even stacks it all up on the shelves which in Isak's room still hold sports trophies from when he was younger. It's the one box Even unpacks himself, putting it in an order Isak can't riddle out, dusting some of it off on the front of his shirt. 

Even shakes his head. "I'm better at taking stuff apart. Trying to figure out how it works. It's the putting back together that's the hard part." 

It's late and they've been at it for hours, but the sun is still up when they finish putting a few posters on the wall. Star Wars, which makes sense, and Melancholia, which Isak's never heard of, and the television and record player are set up, and the room doesn't echo the way it did at first, now that all of Even's things are there to catch the sound.

"Home," Even says, turning a slow circle, hands on his hips, dust and the stain of newsprint packing dug into the grooves of his knuckles. 

"It's a start, anyway," Isak says. He grins, and Even grins back. 

"A _good_ start." Even reaches out, touches Isak's nose and draws a finger down the slope of it. And Isak, who generally doesn't like most people, who rarely leaves the house without his headphones plugged in and a snapback he can pull down low, who often walks with his eyes on the ground and avoids as much human interaction as possible, likes Even. Likes him a whole lot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What would you be doing right now, if you weren't doing this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. hope you're doing well, and enjoying this little thing. 
> 
> i'm not gonna title each chapter, but if i were to give this chapter a title, it would be 'at the right angle,' snagged from Neko Case (again). 
> 
> massive thanks to tebtosca for dealing with me when i'm working from a hole in the ground in the land of no wifi.

"What would you be doing right now, if you weren't doing this?" Even asks. It's the sort of thing Isak's gotten used to in the weeks that he's known him. The circular way Even has of cracking him open a little so he can take a look at what's inside. He only ever takes slivers. Never prying. Never too much.

Summer is winding down and the days are getting shorter, and school is like a small red stop sign on the horizon, getting bigger everyday. 

It's Saturday, late afternoon, and they're shopping. Notebooks and pens and Even needed new shoes, and there's a produce market set up in the square. People pulling trolleys and pushing strollers and usually Isak would think of this as a particularly painful incarnation of hell, but he's with Even, and Even makes a lot of things more bearable, so.

Isak shrugs, sniffs. "Probably sleeping, or getting my ass kicked at FIFA, or hanging out in the skate park." He shifts when Even taps his elbow to let someone slide by them, goes easily and immediately with Even's touch, reads it like telepathy. "Or sleeping more."

"Wait a minute. You skate?" Even says, eyes wide, stopping in the center of a sluggish tide of people, making everyone part around them.

"Not very well, no." Isak shows him his forearm, the strip of new, pinkish skin from his most recent wipeout at the start of the summer break, shortly before he decided to hang up his board for a while. "Mostly I just get my ass kicked."

"Like FIFA." Even runs his thumb along the scar, light like it might still hurt, and although it's already scabbed and peeled and healed, Isak feels it in a way that is acute. Shivery.

"A little like FIFA. More like concrete. Mostly I'd just show up to watch a couple of my friends try to impress girls," Isak goes on, and waits for the follow up questions. Whether or not it worked, and whether or not Isak was trying to impress girls too, and he's well into silently formulating a snarky response to both, but the questions never come. 

He gets a smile instead, and Even guiding him along, asking him to hold his bag while he pulls out his phone to take a photo of a bright citrus stand that tickles the visual centers in his head. Uniform rows of limes, lemons and oranges. One photo turns into four before he can get the perspective right, turns into five once he realizes there are pomegranates too.

Isak could watch him for days, _has_ watched him for weeks now, seen how Even gets fascinated by things. Stuff Isak would ignore, walk right past, like fruit seen from exactly the right angle or the reflection of neon on damp pavement. Simple things like a misspelled word on a handwritten sign or how he can't pass up a shelf of discount books or records sitting outside of a store. All this stuff that people would call quirks, but Isak just calls it Even, like his fixation on broken bottles in gutters, the patterns made out of the shards. All those dangerous, sharp points and crooked star-shapes rearranged with the toe of Even's sneaker. The whole time he's rearranging Isak too, without even trying, sanding down all of Isak's sharp edges with a surgical kinda precision, so exact that Isak doesn't realize it's happening until it's already done.

The farmer's market gives way to a bunch of second hand stalls, and they're in for it now, and Isak feels like he's stuck in some cut-rate romantic comedy without all the romance and hand holding, as Even tries to get him to replace his snapback with a driving cap and Isak refuses, since he has no idea where the thing's been, and fuck the very idea of driving in the first place. Then Isak gets him to put on a chintzy kid's tiara with purple plastic jewels and Isak tries to take a photo of it but he's too late, snaps Even as he's running his hand through his hair to fix it afterward, caught mid-laugh. 

It's blurry and up close and in motion, and if that photo turns into Isak's lockscreen, well, no one needs to know about that.

"What would you be doing?" It's Isak's chance to ask, as Even digs through a table split between tarnished junk jewelry and outdated electronics. "I mean, if we weren't doing this."

Even pulls a double-take and shrugs like Isak did before. "Who knows. I'd want to be doing whatever it is with you, though." With that, he loses himself in screwing around with an ancient VHS player, opening the front flap where the tape goes in and trying to see inside of it.

It's amazing, criminal, how easily Even can make the ground drop out from under Isak's feet, and now Isak is standing there, chewing in the inside of his cheek and trying to make the lump in his throat go away, wishing that he could take his own answer back and choose a better one, fucking skate park and all, and Even's talking the guy behind the table into giving him the thing for a song, because the cord is loose and nobody owns VHS tapes anymore, and it might be retro but not the kind of retro that's cool.

They come to an agreement, and Even tucks it under his arm, something new to tinker over.

"We should watch that movie," Even says, and that's another thing he does a lot. Picks up a thread of conversation from days ago and continues it like it's been minutes. 

"On that thing?" Isak asks, spinning to walk backward now that they've broken loose and are out on a less crowded stretch of sidewalk. He's squinting against the sun and Even notices, lifts the player up on his shoulder to block the worst of it, the cord looped down under his arm and back up again.

"Hell no. I bet this thing doesn't even power up. Are you hungry? I'll make popcorn. We should stop and get stuff."

"Yeah," Isak says, answering every one of Even's questions at once.

Popcorn is an ordeal the way Even makes it. On the stove and with real butter and dirty dishes and everything, and Isak's picking out the burned bits because he likes those best, come to find out. Big bowls for each of them that they carry up into Even's room.

Isak's spent more waking hours in this room than he has his own over the last few weeks, helped Even rearrange furniture when their first shot at it ended up not feeling quite right. Even ditches his street clothes and switches into sweats and throws Isak a pair of flannel pants to wear, and Isak settles into his spot on the loveseat that's now under Even's bunk bed rather than across from the closet. 

Even closes the blinds to make it seem more dark than it really is, because there's too much of a disconnect, trying to watch a movie like Texas Chainsaw Massacre in broad happy daylight, and then he falls down beside Isak, heels hooked on the edge of the couch, and picks out right away which of the characters are going to make it to the end. 

He's less grossed out by the whole cannibalistic supper table than he is delighted over the set dressing, the mobiles made from finger bones and how the arms of the chairs are made out of actual arms, occasionally bumping Isak with his knee or his knuckles, throwing his arm across the back of the couch and leaning into Isak. 

It's easy affection, and Isak's never gonna take it for granted. He's full of junk food and comfortable, warm enough to doze off, with his cheek pressed to Even's shoulder, coming awake again when the sole survivor's screams hit a particular pitch, then again during the last part, when Even rests his chin on the top of Isak's head, and begins talking his way through the last few shots. 

"Wow," Even's saying, "it's a kind of poetry, y'know?"

The chainsaw is roaring and Leatherface is sorta dancing with it, and Isak's eyes feel gritty and his thinking is slow. At one point he must have crossed his ankle over top of Even's and Even has kept it there. "Poetry?"

"Yeah. With the sun rising like that, and Leatherface in red silhouette," he clarifies, rewinding the last part to watch it over again. "Like,the sun is still gonna rise on you, even if you're a monster." 

Isak hums, stretches, allows himself another few minutes on Even's shoulder, until the credits are through, then begins to push onto his feet, and Even's arm around him tightens some.

"Stay. It's okay," Even says.

"It's late." The movement of Even's ribs against Isak's upper arm feels really good.

"It's not all that late. It's just dark, and I'm comfortable. If you leave, I'd have to get up and look out the window to make sure you made it home okay."

Isak snorts but sinks further into the sofa, slurs through what he says next. "It's right there, Even. You don't have to watch me cross the street."

"Of course I do. I always do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where have you been hiding him all summer?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm swooping in hours after this was posted to add this note, and a summary, and to thank tebtosca for stepping in and posting this chapter for me and not giving me crap over the state of my inbox or anything, while i was working in a hole in the ground with no wifi. this is not a metaphor. real-life hole in the ground. no wifi.
> 
> hope you like this little bit and thanks so much for rolling along with me on this thing.

It's always a shock, the switch away from nocturnal to having to be awake, showered and dealing with public transportation by a certain time in the morning. To measure time according to bell rings and lunch hours and whether or not his instructor will get pissed if Isak skids into math class forty-five seconds late or keeps his snapback on during lecture.

Everyone's in their new school clothes, barely worn shoes squeaking on industrial linoleum. On the way to the cafeteria Isak gets handed two flyers advertising clubs and three invitations to school-sanctioned parties. He doesn't plan on going to any of them, but at least has enough manners to turn the corner before he throws them away.

The boys have already staked out their table for the year by the time Isak gets there. He drops into a chair and puts his feet on the empty one beside him and cracks open an energy drink, puts his spare in front of Jonas, then downs half of it in one long sip. Late to bed and early to rise followed by a teacher who seemed to take pleasure in sucking the life outta Western Civ, intro class or not.

Magnus is two chapters into telling them a story about a girl, but Isak gets the gist easily enough, since Magus has a sex life that mostly reads like a hero's journey, a somewhat tragic, somewhat funny series of near misses. This one involved a bag of weed that turned out not to be weed at all, and getting locked inside of someone's basement and having to crawl out of a window. The whole thing ended with everyone having to chip in for a new vacuum cleaner when an attempt to make a beer bong out of the old one went very, very badly. 

Mahdi's giving him shit over it, a fair amount of backward advice mixed in, and Magnus actually takes out a notebook and pretends to write a couple of pointers down, since it's generally accepted that Mahdi has more game than the rest of them combined.

"Where have you been?" Mahdi asks, and three sets of eyes turn toward Isak as Mahdi starts in on a party Isak missed the weekend before last, awesome music and a bottle of vodka and a decent enough girl to guy ratio, the final big blowout before classes started.

It makes Isak think back, realize that most of what he's done this past summer is Even. Not quite to the excusion of everything else, but close.

Isak smirks through what he says, to show that he doesn't really mean it. "I just didn't feel like spending half the night watching you strike out, then the other half of the night holding Magnus's hair out of his face for him while he puked." 

Mahdi sits back, frowns, serious for a beat before he breaks into a grin. "You make a valid point."

"How's Eva?" Isak asks Jonas, and Jonas nods. He looks down at his hands, and the small smile on his face and the way his expression goes sorta gentle tells Isak everything he needs to know.

"Hello." A deep voice behind Isak. A hand on his shoulder. Exactly like the day they first met, but Isak's reaction to it is different now. A warm hook in his stomach and the kick of his pulse whenever he's been apart from Even for a little while, that tiny jumpstart as his body realigns.

Isak introduces him as the vaguely mentioned new neighbor on his street, and there are handshakes across the table and complicated fist bumps and Jonas gets a one-armed, standing-sitting hug from Even since he's closest. Even takes the chair beside Isak and gives him half his sandwich without Isak having to ask.

Almost before Isak can finish his sandwich, Even is tucked into their fold. He has music in common with Mahdi, and Jonas is spilling dirt on Isak from way back in primary school, and Magnus is hanging on every word that Even says like he wants to be him when he grows up. Girls are slowing down as they walk past them but Even doesn't seem to notice, keeps his knee notched against Isak's, leaned back and sprawled in his chair.

The warning bell sounds, and Isak starts to pack up, tells the table at large that he doesn't want to be late for biology.

"Pay attention in class," Jonas tells him, on his feet now and getting another hug from Even. "You need to help the rest of us pass."

Even glances between Jonas and Isak, one eyebrow raised as another girl slows almost to a stop beside them to give Even the once over.

"Biology is his subject. Our boy here is the only reason I passed chemistry last year," Mahdi tells him.

"I've known you for two months," Even says, "and you never told me you're a genius."

Isak chuckles, gives Mahdi a light shove and says, "Eh, he still barely skated by with a four. Some things are a lost cause."

"Where have you been hiding him all summer?" Magnus asks, after Even's started away with a lingering squeeze to Isak's shoulder and a promise to meet him in the courtyard afterward so they can make the trip home together.

It's not like Isak is jealous by nature. He's never had much and regardless of that he's never minded sharing what he does have. He recognizes that Even is a real person with a real, snap-quick mind. Even is interesting and interested and has a warmth that touches everyone he comes in contact with, even if it's just for a few seconds, from the barista who makes his overly sweet coffee to Magnus, who's still staring after him as he walks away. 

Isak's always known he'd eventually have to share him, it's just that he wanted Even to be his, in so many different ways, just for a little while longer.

"You remember that basement you got locked into last week?" Isak teases. "That's where."

\---

"Why biology?" Even asks later, when they're sitting on the floor of Isak's room this time, and Monday afternoon bible study has given Isak the house to himself for at least a few more hours. If tonight is a potluck night, he'll have a couple more hours than that.

His room always feels so much less empty with Even in it, in a way that adding an extra warm body can never account for.

Isak closes his laptop and leans forward, crosslegged with his elbows on his knees. Even is across from him, a slightly taller mirror with a Norwegian lit textbook open in front of him. The thing is thick and heavy enough to do some damage.

"It makes sense," Isak says. "There's a method to how the systems work, and work together."

"To you maybe. It me it's a mystery. Just to start, how does a heart know how to beat?"

"That's just electricity," Isak tells him, trying to figure out a way to explain it that will make Even understand it. That will make him _see_ , abandon all of his metaphors for a short time and take a field trip into Isak's brand of logic. "We don't look the same, and we think differently, but open us up and there are a lot of things about us that are exactly the same on the inside." Isak waves his hand in front of his face. "I mean, it's more complex than that, obviously, but it's…comforting too, to think that if something breaks inside of us, there's someone out there who will know how to fix it." 

"So you wanna go into medicine?" Even says, head tipped to the side a little, a slight quirk to his mouth.

"I dunno. Maybe research." Isak opens his laptop again, partially to put the topic to rest and also because it makes everything tilt sideways, when Even looks at him like that. "I'm not very good around people."

"But you are very good around _some_ people," Even says, and touches the bridge of his nose, a light brushstroke down the center of it. It's the first time he's done it all day. He taps the tip of it and says, "Electricity."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. we've passed the halfway point on this little thing, time-wise if not narratively, and posting late because whoa boy work kinda clobbered me.
> 
> if i were to title this, it would be "Bracing for Sunday." (Neko Case, and if you haven't guessed, there's a bit of a theme going on here).
> 
> hope you enjoy!

There's a party. The house is wall to wall with people. It's loud, the voices drowning out the music, so someone turns up the music which drowns out the voices, and then the voices get even louder. The only reason they got close to the place was because Jonas knows a guy who knows another guy, then Eva gave the kid guarding the door a bottle of wine, and Jonas and Eva haven't been seen since, probably found an out of the way corner somewhere to do some out of the way things. 

There's a girl, sitting on the couch next to Isak, sliding closer and closer to him as the night goes on. They have English class together and she's smart and funny. Objectively pretty and she smells very nice, like some sort of light, powdery perfume. The three or maybe four beers Isak's had are doing their job, and he doesn't mind too much the way her long hair is brushing against his upper arm below the cuff of his t-shirt, and how she keeps touching his knee.

There's Even, coming out of a back bedroom where Isak thinks people have been holed up smoking weed, chest bumping some guy Isak doesn't recognize, leaning down some in order to hear what he has to say. Isak was right before, when he guessed that Even's dark red zip up hoodie would look really good on him. And he's paid more attention to his hair tonight than usual, which is saying something. 

It's easy for Even. He draws everyone into his orbit. Isak's friends. New people. For most of this past summer, Isak had been a single planet revolving around him, and now he's part of a solar system, and he's left wondering whether or not he's still the one closest to the sun.

Even checks in on Isak, like he's been doing off and on for much of the night, scans the room and locks onto Isak then moves his chin up in a silent are you good, and Isak returns it with a sideways nod, a yeah and how about you, then Magnus swings into Isak's peripheral vision, an impressed frown on his face and a not at all subtle thumbs up over the girl who is now nearly sitting in Isak's lap.

The song switches to a slower one, and Even isn't dancing in the middle of the crowd of people, there's not enough room for it, but he is sorta swaying, legs set wide and arms crossed over his head and it makes him look even taller than he usually does. Long everywhere, going on forever, like everything else about him. Like his laugh and his heart. Like his kindness, which is big enough that it has its own horizon.

Isak's company for the evening is toying with the small hole in the knee of his jeans, and all of Isak's harmless flirting is quickly becoming a lot less harmless, and she's laying down some heavy hints that maybe they should dance, or maybe they should find somewhere. She's stuck to his side, cushioned curves that should feel good against his hip and thigh, warm skin and small shoulders that should feel good tucked under his arm.

A new song. Even's still not really dancing, and there's another girl Isak doesn't recognize with her arm wrapped around Even's neck, her other hand up the back of Even's red hoodie and t-shirt. He's not kissing her, but it looks like he might. He could. It's obvious she wants him to.

Isak begs off, eases the sting of guilt he feels by telling himself that she's better off without getting led on by a gay kid who can't even whisper the word out loud to himself, into the palm of his own hand in a dark room behind a locked door in an entirely empty house. 

He brushes past people as he walks down the hallway, peeking into open bedrooms then looping back into the kitchen looking for Mahdi. They have a complicated barter system, but he thinks Mahdi owes him another beer, and even if he doesn't, Mahdi always comes through in a pinch.

The kitchen is less crowded, a few decibels quieter too, and Mahdi is nowhere to be found, not on the back patio either, which seems to be the place people are going to bundle up and make out, so Isak rinses the dregs from a wine glass he finds on the counter and starts drinking water, trying to get the jump on the inevitable hangover.

"You've hit that phase of the night. Kinda early, too."

It's Even, sliding up beside him and his eyes are a little glassy, bloodshot and that makes the blue in them seem brighter. There's a smudge of pink lipgloss on the corner of his mouth and now Isak has the answer to the question he's never figured out how to ask, and the cold knife stabbing into his chest feels very, very real. 

Even steals the water from Isak's hand and drains it, fills it up again and gives it back. "You looked pretty comfortable back there."

Isak doesn't want someone who's gonna fit comfortably under his arm. He wants to have to stretch, push the heels of his feet off of the ground. He wants to have to _reach_ , tip his head up instead of down. He wants a deep voice. Narrow hips to fill a space between his knees and a set of hands bigger than his own. He wants arms that are strong enough to hold him.

He doesn't take the bait, doesn't want to deal with the hook inside of it. Instead Isak presses his spine against the right angle where the two counters meet. Lets it steady him. He's losing to gravity and it hasn't got a lot to do with all the underage drinking. He knocks his foot into Even's and says, "You smell like weed."

A slow step forward. Even has his hand on Isak's arm and his thumb is digging in, and the smell of weed is getting stronger. He's still edging in, bending down to put them on the same level, and Isak's staring at the curl of Even's hair behind his ear as Even breathes in deeply through his nose.

It's close and intimate and Isak feels drunk all over again, trapped by Even, nowhere to go but up. More drunk than the maybe four beers can explain away, and what if he puts his hand up under Even's shirts so _he_ can be the one to touch his bare back instead, and what if he pushes up a little and what if he lifts his chin and closes his eyes. Fuck it. What if. Even's right here and Isak would hardly have to move and he wouldn't even have to say anything. 

Even sorta laughs and sorta sighs, and his eyes turn into those half-moon shapes they sometimes make when he's happy. "You smell like beer."

The door to the patio opens on a blast of cold air and Isak laughs too. Shaky and somewhat high-pitched and a touch too loud.

"I'll walk you home," Even says, without asking if Isak is ready to go. He never has to ask. He simply always seems to know.

"You don't have to go," Isak says, finishing his water and balancing the glass in the wreckage of the sink.

"I don't have to stay, either."

\---

The drunk has worn off, and Isak's in his bed. Across the street, Even still hasn't turned off his bedroom light.

They'd walked home together, Even with a chilly hand on the back of Isak's neck for most of the trip because sure, Isak had been weaving some, and then he'd unlocked Isak's door when Isak had run out of patience with his keys. They'd stood there for a while, giggled through texts about Jonas having to be responsible for some sloshed guy none of them knew as the two of them sobered up enough to begin recognizing how cold the night had become. 

Even had hugged him goodnight, and their teeth had been chattering and Even's mouth had been cold against Isak's ear when he reminded him in a shivering hushed voice to be quiet and drink some more water.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and Isak can't believe in absolution anymore, not in the way that Sunday school taught him, but he does believe in coming clean, and nothing seems real unless he can share it with Even. Unless Even knows it too.

He holds his palm up to his lips and mouths the words. Tomorrow he's going to say them out loud.

\---

Ten days go by before Isak sees Even again, and when he finally does, everything has changed.

At the same time, everything is still the same.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there. tebtosca, you guys. one day she's gonna disown me. 
> 
> happy one year since Gullruten happened! straight up one of the best days of my fannish life. i'm gonna go bake a cake in honor of it.
> 
> thank you for reading!

Snapshots. Like the old polaroids in that photo album that Isak's mother keeps in the bottom drawer of her dresser, the one he used to page through back when he was little. All of the colors are skewed. The browns have turned red and the blues have turned yellow.

Even asking Isak to hand him his green sketchbook or his red Nike's or his big glossy coffee table book about the Uffizi and Isak knowing exactly where all of those things are because he's the one who originally unpacked them and put them in place. There's nearly nothing that Even has that Isak hasn't touched.

Even calling him in the middle of the night and knowing it was safe since Isak's light was still on and neither of them could sleep, so they spent two hours debating the relative merits of dozens of vampire movies before coming to the conclusion that Near Dark was probably the best, although Even insists that he would have rewritten the ending if he'd been the one who'd made it, and they'd both dragged their desk chairs to their windows, looking at each others lighted silhouettes, Even's voice soft and deep in Isak's ear and somehow closer than if they'd been in the same room, and talking and talking until Isak's words began to slur and he began to drop the thread, and Even turning his light off first and saying goodnight, Isak, so his name in Even's mouth would be the last thing he heard before he went to sleep.

Even showing up at Isak's house because he understands that Sundays are weird for him, with two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts bitten between his teeth. The donuts had green icing and sprinkles and had created this strange disconnect in Isak's head, since green things are supposed to taste like mint or sour apple but in this case they just tasted like sugar. Even sticking his tongue out and he'd had a green stripe down the center of it, and Isak doing the same, then rolling his eyes when Even told him he looked good in green. For all of Even's intensity, all of that kindness and affection and understanding, he's such a kid sometimes. Green tongue and all.

Even on the rooftop of the tall apartment building, breathless from the climb, and the steady breeze catching his shirt, plastering it to his stomach, and Even stepping up on the railing, sitting on the top rung. Isak hovering close, hands itching to grab onto Even's hips in order to stabilize him. The city stretching out past Even's back but Even hadn't been looking that. A rare, cloudless sky and a rare, cloudless boy and that had been the closest Isak had ever come to telling Even that he loved him. That he _could_ love him, with all his heart.

\---

Isak researches and learns to hate words like illness and disorder. He reads shitty internet translations until his eyes begin to sting and the sentences stop making sense. There's a lot of information, more than Isak knows what to do with, and he weeds through facts about pharmaceuticals and brain chemistry, side effects and case studies, but none of it can encompass Even, not the whole of him. Science can explain a lot, but it can't explain the hollow expanse in Isak's chest, all those tiny buckshot holes in his stomach that grow bigger when he looks across the street and finds an empty room and a dark window.

\---

People talk. Isak gets messages and questions and kids at school go quiet when he walks past them. They want a story, and Isak knows some of it but nowhere near all of it, and anyhow, it's not his story to tell.

Isak is outside of a classroom. The bell rings and students file out, one of them stopping when he sees Isak, digging into his messenger bag for a folder. Quizzes, photocopied notes from Even's literature class. Isak's been making the rounds, picking stuff up, shrugging through questions.

"You're him. You're Even's Isak," the kid says as he hands the folder over. "Tell him I said hi." No questions, no gossip. Just a clap on the shoulder before he's rushing off to his next class.

Headphones in, hood pulled up as Isak takes the stairs two at a time. Even's Isak. It's the first time Isak has smiled in a really long time.

\---

Isak has to sign in. Show an ID. Hand the folders of schoolwork over for inspection. The person behind the desk gives him a sticker to wear and then buzzes him through a door. A second door, and everything smells like industrialized disinfectant with an underlying baseline of something distinctly medical.

There are rooms, rows of open doors on either side of the hallway and Isak doesn't look into any of them. Even's mother is a light touch on his elbow. She knows the way without having to be told, greets a nurse and a doctor as they walk past.

He's taken into a room, allowed to be alone in there and that's good. It's got a high ceiling and painted cinder block walls and a window set very far up. The window doesn't have bars and the walls aren't padded. He'd sorta been wondering if they would be.

The door locks from the outside.

The handle clicks and Even steps into the room and Isak's on his feet before he realizes what he's doing, and the folders have fallen to the floor, paper spilled everywhere and Isak pulls up short for a second. A fraction of a second to look at him. Just look at him, his chapped lips and pale face and the dirty thumbprints of exhaustion under his eyes and then he hugs him. Tight. So so tight, his face buried in Even's neck and their bodies pressed together and Even's chest hitches. Or that might be Isak's. It might be both of them.

"I'm sorry," Even mumbles, and the cheek against Isak's ear feels a little damp.

"Fuck that," Isak says, and holds him tighter.

They stay that way for a while, until Isak's breathing straightens out and the gaps between his ribs feel like they're filling in some. There are two chairs in the room and nothing else, but Even skips those, sits down on the floor instead. Crosslegged, bare feet tucked under his knees and Isak does the same. Mirror image, like always, knees touching and heads bowed, foreheads a few millimeters apart. He's wearing a thin, wrinkled t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants that Isak's worn before. He’s never looked quite so young. Thin and frail and not at all diminished, still the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen. Only tired, and incredibly young. 

"Thanks for bringing me homework," Even says, sarcasm laced inside of it. A dry chuckle. "They won't let me have pencils. Too sharp."

"Do you wanna talk me through it?" Isak asks. 

Even lets out a watery breath. Isak can taste it and it's a little bitter, something medicinal about it but he doesn't mind. "I'm sick."

"No you're not. You're Even." He’s oversimplifying and it’ll have to do for now. Isak curves his hand around the back of Even's neck, shakes his head and now their foreheads are brushing, and Even's hair feels silky on his skin. "What happened?"

Even's fingers twitch against Isak's thighs. "Maybe later," he says, then tilts his face up, looks Isak in the eye and they're so close that nothing is in sure focus. "Are you okay?"

Isak's the one who chuckles this time, a nervous sound. He tries to swallow and all he gets is a pasty click. "I'm scared, but yeah. I'm okay."

"Good." Some of the tension seems to melt out of Even and his shoulders drop. His fingers relax on Isak's legs. "I'm glad you're scared. I'm scared too. Runner's high." A soft smile. No crescent moon eyes, but at least there's a smile. "Can we just." 

He doesn't finish the sentence but rather eases away some, guides Isak down as he lowers himself and Isak goes with it easily, lays back on the floor. Even curls around him, leg slotted over Isak's and his ear pressed to Isak's chest. Directly over his heart.

Isak flattens his palm on Even's back, feels the bumps of his spine, each and every deep inhale. Without looking, he walks his fingers up along Isak’s neck, his jaw, his cheek, finds the bridge of Isak’s nose and traces it, and it’s like Isak can finally breathe again. 

There's this aimless sort of ache in Isak's bones, inside of his throat, deep down in his chest. A dull pain everywhere but it's okay. It's one thing he doesn't have to be afraid of. He can define it, knows what it means. For the very first time, he’s seeing every last piece of Even. And if it hurts, it's only because Isak's falling in love with all of him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the home stretch now, folks.
> 
> this is a short one for a number of reasons (chronology and narrative structure and the chapter cut just works better this way and my personal desire to coat these kids in bubble wrap for a little while. y'know, all the usual suspects.)
> 
> thanks, everyone. hope you enjoy.

Even comes home.

Even comes home and it's a school day, late morning, and usually Isak would be in Western Civ right now, listening to his instructor suck all the life out of the high Middle Ages, barrell headlong into the Renaissance. Instead he's hovering by his front door, watching the car across the street pull up to the curb and slow to a stop. Watching Even get out of the car with a plastic bag from the hospital clutched to his chest, bundled in a heavy coat with a knit hat on his head. 

This isn't the sort of thing you get balloons for, no foily mylar thing that says get well soon, no colorful welcome home banner to hang from the wall in the living room. Even probably isn't supposed to drink champagne much anymore.

Even's sweatpants are too short for him and he's not wearing any socks, bony bare ankles above his sneakers. It's a strange detail for Isak to latch onto, and he's doing it anyway, and he's got a plate of cookies in his hands, still warm from the oven. Even is halfway up his sidewalk when Isak gets there and grabs onto Even's shoulder.

"Hello," Isak says, and doesn't let go, just rotates around until he's in front of Even, keeps holding on, his grip cushioned by Even's jacket and he hopes Even can feel how strong Isak wants it to be regardless, as he pulls Even down to him. The bag in Even's arms gets crushed between their bodies and Even's knuckles are pressing into Isak's ribs, the cookies nearly bite the dust and it's almost exactly like the day they met, light, splash blue eyes and all.

"You're new," Isak goes on, although he isn't. Everything about Even is familiar. The cadence of his footsteps and the tiny scar on his cheek. The warm smell of his skin. The slurred purr of his voice and the habit he has of pursing his lips when he's thinking. All of this and a thousand other things besides.

"You remembered." Even's mouth isn't smiling, but his eyes are, and behind them, the door to Even's house is standing open, waiting for them to go inside. 

"I remembered," Isak says simply, and screw the high Middle Ages, screw the Renaissance sideways, some histories are more important than others.

"Did you make these?" Even asks, and steals a cookie from the plate, still-warm chocolate melting onto his fingers, turning it over to find the bottom of it only barely burned, and only on one side.

Isak sniffs like it was nothing. Like he hadn't researched six recipes and watched two youtube tutorials just in case. "It's only chemistry, with a little extra sugar."

Even surprises him by rattling off the chemical compound of sugar. Carbon twelve hydrogen twenty-two oxygen eleven, then says, "As long as there wasn't any biology involved."

"No biology." Isak plucks one up and shoves the whole thing in his mouth to prove it.

\---

They spend the day slowly, quietly, the two of them camped out in the living room. Even's mother keeps checking in on them, plainly stuck between wanting to be available and not wanting to hover. She brings him clean clothes and a new toothbrush, a glass of water and three pill bottles, and Isak notices how Even doesn't say a word about his bedroom or want to get anything from it himself, avoids even looking at the staircase that leads up to it.

At one point, Isak offers to build them a fort out of couch cushions and comforters, planning out the best way to incorporate the dining room chairs into the design for the greatest amount of stability. He's joking, but not really. 

They watch a movie about a trans prostitute fresh out of jail looking for her cheating boyfriend. Tangerine, shot on a dime and entirely on an iphone, and Isak picked it because he thought it would be the sort of thing that Even would be into. Artsy but not too up on itself. The kinda thing that would make him sit up and start talking through it. It's funny in turns and dark in other turns and it does make Even perk up some, pay close attention, and they're both a little surprised when that one guy from Generation Kill shows up in the final act, playing the asshole boyfriend.

"You don't need a big film crew or a budget to make a movie that people need to see," Isak says at the end of it.

"I'm not brave enough to pull something like that off," Even says.

"Yes you are." Isak settles into the corner of the couch and pokes Even's thigh with his toes. "You can't see it right now, but you are."

"But you can see it?" It comes flatly out of Even's mouth. Not mean. A gentle tease.

"Some things are easier to see from the outside, yeah."

Even's phone makes a noise, a chime like church bells and he uncaps two of the pill bottles. Two tiny, chalky pharmaceutical feats of biochemical engineering down the hatch. He doesn't shy away from letting Isak see him do it, and Isak doesn't shy away from looking at him, and Isak can't begin to figure out what's going on in Even's head, only knows that it's a start. 

Even catnaps off and on and doesn't touch the food his mother brings them. His neck is bent crooked against the back of the couch until Isak pulls him into his lap, rearranges himself so that Even will be comfortable, no prodding angles or knobby knees or hip bones. 

Isak listens to his deep breathing and the humming sound he makes each time he wakes up some, brushes his fingers through Even's hair. He discovers that he can spend an hour, two hours, maybe a lifetime watching the path that sunlight takes across Even's face. 

"It's filthy," Even says, when he wakes up and catches Isak tucking a stray cowlick behind his ear. "Smells like the hospital."

"It's not too bad," Isak tells him, fingers going still. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Not at all." Even shifts, burrows down, rubbing his cheek on Isak's chest. "You don't have to stay."

Isak thinks back to a party at a stranger's house. Too much beer and a long walk home and Even's cold hand on the back of his neck. Another small history, only this time in reverse. "I don't have to go, either."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "C'mon, it's Even."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! we're at the finish line now, folks.
> 
> many, many thanks to tebtosca for allowing me to dangle little bits and pieces of this in front of her all last week, and many thanks to you guys for sticking with me and being so much fun to talk to.
> 
> i must warn you that there are spoilers for the end of the best damn vampire movie ever put on celluloid, Near Dark. kinda. also, were i to title this, i'd call it 'the needle has landed, let it play' snagged from (you guessed it) Neko Case.
> 
> dunno. i'm gonna miss this version of these boys. just a little. 
> 
> cheers!

Isak finds Jonas at the skate park. The days are getting shorter and it’s hit the point where the sunsets are noticeably earlier. The harsh, parking lot glare from way over Isak's head lights up the most recent layer of colorful graffiti. They're the only ones there. Jonas doesn't have to try to impress girls anymore. He just has to impress one girl.

Isak's sits down on the bench, puts his skateboard wheels up beside him, and he has no intention of getting on the thing. He's been thinking about giving it to Jonas anyway, so at least it'll get used. After months, Isak is tragically out of practice and he's never been that great in the first place. 

Jonas notices him on the next circuit and changes trajectory, gives Isak the finger as Isak claps and whoops at an almost-wipeout.

"You totally stuck the landing on that one. I'll give you a five and a half," Isak says, and when Jones flips him off again, he goes on, "Okay, okay. A five, but it's a really _solid_ five."

Jonas sits down next to him, puts his board in his lap and starts screwing around with one of the wheels. Blames the near wipeout on a wobble somewhere. 

"How’s Eva?" Isak asks. He hasn’t seen her for a while, outside of a quick hey, how are you or a wave across the courtyard at school. 

"We’re going up to her cabin this weekend." He laughs a little, shakes his head and continues, "And she wants me to meet her mom." 

"Holy shit."

"Yeah. I know." A pause, then Jonas says, "How’s Even?" He's squinting across the park, absently spinning one of the wheels on his skateboard.

The parallel isn’t lost on Isak, just like the undercurrent of gossip he's been ignoring. Staticy, vague talk like a radio tuned one click away from a station. Nissen is a small school. Things get passed around fast. Things get warped, but what Jonas is saying isn't about that. It's about more than that. It’s an offer to hold onto whatever Isak is willing to hand over.

"He's home," Isak says, because Jonas is one of only a few who knows some of it.

"Thought so, when you weren't in school for the last couple of days. I sent him a text. Did he tell you?"

"No. Did he reply?"

"Yeah, he sent me a Seinfeld meme." Jonas grins, and there's true affection in it, and as he turns toward Isak, his grin fades but the affection stays. "He's good for you, y'know. You were kind of an asshole before." Isak punches his shoulder and Jonas sways with it, absorbs the impact. "You're still an asshole, but at least you're a nicer one than you used to be."

"I've spent years building that reputation. No way I'm letting go of it now." Isak draws his leg up and hugs his arms around it, props his chin on his knee. What he says next comes out muted. "I have the worst timing. I should have said something to him before, and now, with everything." He stops. The rat's maze in his head is too big to fit in his mouth, much less come out of it.

"He knows. C'mon, it's Even." 

"There's a fifty-fifty chance it could screw everything up, and that's only because he's already my friend." And that's the bitch of the thing, the flashing warning sign that hangs over the entire situation. That it's a whole lot less scary for Isak to keep his mouth shut, maintain the status quo, because he'd rather spend a lifetime being near Even and wanting him than spend so much as a minute without him.

"I'm gonna go with eighty-twenty, and that's only because you've probably already researched statistics and run the numbers and I don't feel like arguing." Jonas is staring at him, constant and unblinking. "But Isak, the two of you have never been just friends, and I've never seen anyone look at anybody the way Even looks at you."

\---

Isak goes home, one skateboard lighter than he was before.

He opens his blinds before he climbs into bed and can’t remember the last time he slept with them shut. Even’s bedroom window is dark. It’s been three days and Isak knows he hasn’t slept in his room since he came home. 

The television light is flickering away in the front window across the street, a new habit Even has picked up, sleeping with the thing turned on and the volume set low. A murmur to eat away at the quiet, and Isak arranges his pillows and falls asleep in a sitting position, and every time he wakes up, over and over again until sleep finally becomes pointless, television blue is the first thing he sees.

\---

It's the first of many weekly visits to Even's doctor and Isak's walked him there, is sitting in the waiting room with Even's coat balled up in his lap, and the lady behind the reception desk keeps looking at him with the same wistful sort of expression she's had on her face since he'd come in at Even's side, then filled out the forms for him because Even hates doing that kinda thing. Name, address, phone number, and Even had insisted that Isak list himself as his number two emergency contact, right below his mother, and Isak had insisted that he put down someone more responsible, and Even had told him that responsibility is sometimes the last thing you need in an emergency.

This appointment is more of a meet and greet and it's short, and Even emerges with a handful of pamphlets that Isak holds while he puts his coat on, and the lady is still staring at them wistfully as Even sets up his next visit and the one after that, Isak reminding him of their school schedule since he never plans on letting Even walk here alone.

"That awful taste in my mouth and the fact that I can feel my pulse in my fucking fingertips are apparently normal. They're side effects," Even says after Isak's asked him how it went, as they're making their way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. "It might eventually go away."

Isak digs into Even's coat pocket and hands him a piece of gum, steals a second one for himself.

Down the block there's a junk shop, a slight nautical theme from what Isak can see of the inside. Even begins to walk past it, without so much as a spare glance and that's different, more heartbreaking than anything. It's up to Isak to make them stop, Even on his heels as he wanders through the place, into dusty dark corners, picking up a tarnished brass kaleidoscope, pointing it at Even and turning it to make a dozen versions of Even, spun out in various directions and angles.

Even says something about how it reminds him of an attic in a Dickens novel and Isak says, "It's kinda cool though, so long as I don't find you in here a decade from now, wearing some gross old wedding dress."

It's not even that funny, but Even laughs anyway. It's a startled sound, like Even didn't expect it himself. A huge grin and everything. It's been days and days and weeks since Isak's heard it, and the raw, ragged tears in his chest feel cauterized, Even's sudden happiness filling up the most tender places in Isak's heart.

"I think I'm ready to deal with my room now," Even says outta nowhere, and he sounds surprised by that, too.

"Okay," Isak says, not understanding but not needing to, either. "I'll help you, if you want."

\---

"It's." Isak licks his lips, tries again. "It's like a landmine went off."

"I'm pretty sure I was the landmine," Even says, standing beside Isak, a nervous hand brushing through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I got...frustrated, and I couldn't hold still."

"Over what?" He understands why Even's been avoiding all of this. There are books and papers everywhere and the mattress is skewed and partially hanging off of the bed, and the previously busted old electronic equipment is now more busted than before and scattered all over the floor. 

"I don't know," Even admits, "it was just." He makes a hissing sound and his hands turn into claws above his head and Isak doesn't get it except in all of the ways that he does.

Two of them working on it and it still takes them hours, and Isak keeps up a mostly one-sided running dialogue the whole time, while they fix the bed and put stuff back on shelves, throw away everything that's an absolute lost cause then rearrange a couple of posters, covering over a boxy, VCR-shaped hole in the wall.

He talks about vampires, and how biologically they don't make sense since they don't have a heartbeat and therefore should be brain dead, and Even points out that they're mostly just clunky metaphors for sex, or addiction, or virginity, depending on who you ask, and he's still pissed off and hung up on the ending of Near Dark. 

"Biology or not," Even says, "it should take more than a blood transfusion to cure a monster of being a monster. If we ever watch it, we should skip the last twenty minutes. Pretend that it doesn't exist."

"But the bloodbath at the end is kinda awesome." Isak spins in a slow circle in the center of Even's room, gives it the once over to make sure everything's put back in order, wondering if sex or addiction or virginity is the only metaphor on the table here.

"Okay. Alright. I'll give you that. But we'll have to watch it on mute."

\---

A month has gone by since Even's been to school, and this morning they're on the tram again, groggy and gritty-eyed and Even's a bit jittery, chewing on his lips, bouncing on his heels. Isak slides his hand up the pole they're both holding onto and hooks his first finger around Even's pinky.

"What if we skip?" Isak says. They're three stops away from the one closest to the school, plenty of time to bend this day in a different direction. "I'm nowhere near the limit, and you've already been gone a month, so what's one more day?"

"I shouldn't contribute to your delinquency," Even says, but there's a spark to him that hasn't been there all morning.

"We'd be contributing to each other's delinquency for a while now, and besides, you forget that I'm the one who showed you how to break into the movie theater."

Decision made, and they hop off at the next stop and catch the tram heading back the other way, and wind up at the same park where Isak and Jonas got stoned for the first time around a year ago, an elevated spot with a pretty view of the city and the water beyond. 

It's cold and grey, and they get hot chocolate to keep their hands warm, and the cloud cover is beginning to take on a certain distinction that means rain or ice is probably on the way. This place is nice in the spring, when the trees are blooming and the grass is green, but today the sky is broken up by brittle bare branches and the remnants of snow is crunching under their boots.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," Isak says as he throws away their empty cups, and Even is wiping his nose on the sleeve of his coat, his cheeks pink and blotchy from the cold.

"It's a great idea," Even assures him, about thirty seconds before it begins to rain. 

Edit that to sleet, and they start to walk faster, up a gradual hill where Isak remembers there being a small maintenance shack with an even smaller overhang on its roof, barely big enough for two tall boys to fit under, if they crowd in close like they are now. They're shivering, and hunkered together, and Even takes Isak's hands and puts them in the pockets of his coat.

"Maybe not the best idea, but still a great one," Even says, and Isak looks up at him, at his bright red nose and eyes watery from the cold. He looks up at Even and sees his warmth and his kindness, feels Even hook their fingers together inside of his pockets and squeeze Isak's hands, and Isak's heart is banging so hard, and Isak is pushing up and up, onto the toes of his feet and both of Even's thumbs are rubbing circles on the backs of his hands.

Isak closes his eyes and Even's right there but not kissing him. His hair tickles Isak's face and he's touching their noses together, lining the tip of his own against the bridge of Isak's and sliding it down, back up. Down again and Isak finally understands it. This thing Even's done countless times. A kiss. Every single time it's been a kiss. One that Isak's always wanted and that Even was never sure he was allowed to give.

"You've never been kissed before," Even says, nowhere near a question, and Isak shakes his head, lets out a hitched breath. A white cloud that mixes with Even's breath in a visible way, and Even frees one of his hands to touch Isak's jaw, curl his fingers beneath Isak's chin and bring him in that last little bit.

Warm breath and chilly lips and Even kisses him. He's kissing him, and cupping Isak's face in his hands, and Isak's tangled in Even's pockets and kissing him back, still on his toes and pushing up. Reaching, and Even tastes so good, feels so good, chest flat against his, one arm hugged tight around the small of Isak's back.

"Now I have been," Isak whispers when they break off and stare at each other for a second, and Even looks happy. Plainly happy, a smile like sunshine that stays there as Isak works his hands loose and wraps his arms around Even's neck, digs a hand into his hair and kisses him again. Deeper this time and more sure. More heated, angled in, open mouths and the first touch of Even's tongue is light and hesitant, and the sleet is pinging on the roof above their heads and everything else is hushed, and Even isn't hesitant for very long.

There's something giddy happening in Isak's chest, like Even's unlocked some last small piece of him and now his heart has learned how to laugh.

"God, Even. I love you. I think I've always loved you." Isak isn't saying it into the palm of his hand. It's not a whisper. He says it against Even's lips. He says it out loud.

\--end

 

thanks for reading!


End file.
